normal

Normal birth is respectful to women and body friendly, not fear-focused and controlling.

Normal birth is watchful and patient, not technocratic and performance-focused.

Normal birth is sensually rich and cyclical, not body-numbing and task-oriented.

Normal birth is ruled by birthing women, not litigation-weary white-coats, or conservative hospital protocols, or the squeamishness of healthcare legal-eagles whose job it is to cover the hospital’s backside.

Three weeks 'til I leave for Maine. Bring it on!

jordmoder*

I slept in really late this morning, after coming home in the early hours from Pretoria (reason: a late screening of The Dark Knight with a bunch of friends). The film was fantastic. It's almost a post-heroic superhero movie, and though this is not the sort of genre I usually like, I really appreciated the brains behind the storyline. It's not camp or kitsch, but grim and thoughtful instead. And we saw it in Imax, which made the cityscape shots incredibly evocative - even dizzying, operatic. Then there's Heath Ledger's joker. He's terrifying, and his smeared face and dangling-limbed body personify anarchy. And yet, he has no cause - he's not doing it for money or to prove a point. He's 'simply' turning the world on its head, no rhyme or reason (a notion that is perfectly conveyed by one of the last shots of the film, in which Joker is laughing eerily, hanging upside-down but filmed right-side-up). What a smart movie. Oh, and Christian Bale is delicious. ;)

In other news, I've just been on Google Earth, taking in the views from above of my soon-to-be home. Bridgton is about 38 miles (60km) from Portland, Maine, and the drive up from the airport looks like a rather straight-forward one. Mercifully.

The whole area of Bridgton (which is small and rural; population = +/- 6000), is surrounded by lakes, which look really beautiful from the Google Earth perspective, and will no doubt be more beautiful still when I see them for real.

3 weeks, 3 days to go.


*Danish word for midwife: jordmoder, or "earth-mother".

birthing the future

superstition

"Research has shone bright lights on what women have always known: Dynamic systems are sensitive to start-up conditions. Thus, a gentle birth is life enhancing for the human organism."
~ Robin Lim

I spent some time in May with Elena Tonetti, a Russian birth activist who was in South Africa for a lecture/workshop tour partly sponsored by one of my current employers (yes... I have several jobs, all of which I am giving up when I start school). Elena is pretty well known in the birthing world, mostly because of an astonishing documentary film she created called Birth As We Know It. She described herself to me as "a champion for the human rights of infants", and she talked to many midwives and birth professionals while she was here, about the psychological effects of traumatic births for babies (and mothers). Elena showed her film at the Sensitive Midwifery Symposium in Cape Town and in Jo'burg. I was part of a group of doulas/student midwives/activists who helped bring Elena over to this country, to try to put some sparks onto the tiny little fire we have burning here in the name of 'sane', normal, woman-centred birth.

It was wonderful to talk to Elena, and be in her presence - she has a warmth and grace and openness of spirit that positively radiate out of her. She is full of compassion and love for mothers and fathers and babies, and speaks about newborns in a way that only a true 'Earth Mother' could. And her film is remarkable in its depiction of birth as an act of devotion, an act of love and strength and courage, and yet one that does not require constant medical surveillance.

But I've been thinking, about this dichotomy we've created between 'earthy', so-called alternative birth (that takes place usually at home, or at least in a birth centre, attended by midwives), and 'scientific', 'rational', medical birth (that takes place without exception in the hospital, attended by doctors - specifically, obstetricians). I think it's been incredibly harmful to the profession of midwifery that we have been presented in popular culture as the 'Birkenstock' clan, almost unanimously vegan and 'radical', not predisposed to scientific thinking, and certainly not partial to the streamlined efficiency of the modern labour ward. Sometimes, we ourselves are guilty of perpetuating this stereotype.

It's a dangerous stereotype, for midwives and mothers alike, because it is false (as stereotypes so often are). Midwifery is a self-reflective profession whose practices are based on sound evidence. It is not a throwback to a 'primitive', superstitious past before obstetrics came along to save the day. Indeed, it is obstetrics that so often practices superstitiously, and with greater consideration for its own reputation than for what is in the best interests of the mother and baby. Obstetrical practice is based on a false notion of inescapable, predictable pathology that medicine believes is inherent in birth. It is the old story that medicine tells itself, that women and babies would surely all die during birth if it were not for hospitals and foetal monitors and IVs. And obstetricians practice in sadomasochistic institutions, namely hospitals, whose overarching protocols (based on fear of malpractice lawsuits) entrap even those doctors who would like to change the 'system', who see how often it harms otherwise healthy mothers and babies, who are not interventionist, and who are indeed midwives in disguise.

"We midwives will only dethrone the obstetricians when we get up off our knees." ~ Anonymous

human animal

Less than a month to go; and I'm struggling with my fears. The last time I went abroad to study, in 2005, I'd just finished a 6-month contract lecturing History at my alma mater. I won a scholarship, which I really hadn't been expecting to get, and so I had to think quickly - where would I go; which programme would I chose? There was never a question of choosing not to go at all. The option existed, but it also didn't. After all, pretty much everyone I knew was expecting me to work in academia. I even accepted that that's what I would do with my life, but only because I'd never really taken a moment to think all that much about it. And then there's that word - 'accepted'... Is that really how I wanted to make a career choice? Resign myself to it?

So I chose Scotland - St Andrews. And the year I spent there was an almost unmitigated disaster. Writing my thesis eventually became painful, like squeezing blood out of a stone. Yet, until that point, I would've called myself passionate about the subject itself (environmental history and policy). But it's one thing to be passionate about reading about environmental history, and thinking about it, and talking about it. Passionate in the way that I'm passionate about my other 'hobbies' and intellectual interests. It's quite another to contemplate being paid to be an 'expert', and to dance the puppet dance of modern academic life, every day, for decades.

One day, perhaps, I will post about the joys of Scotland. (I did say, 'almost unmitigated'.) There were some redeeming moments, some redeeming friendships. But now my mind somehow associates studying overseas with a deep anxiety and loneliness and 'stuck'-ness. It's perplexing because, in so many areas of my life, I am not afraid of the unknown. I consider myself a courageous person. And crossing a vast ocean to establish a new home, new friendships, a new rhythm - this is something that would make any person anxious (consciously acknowledged or otherwise). We all have fears to face when we must leave behind everything we know and open a new door.

But what if, behind this new door, I know that someone is waiting for me? And that someone is me?

And this time, I am beckoning to myself, calling out to myself - Come! You can't see yet what awaits you here, but you do know that this time, it will be different. This time, it's on your terms. The loneliness you fear will be met with fellowship and love, the stuckness will be unfrozen and your rivers will flow. The cold will be met with warm mittens and warm hearts. Midwife hearts.


"Midwives talk about the connection between mind and body, the importance of understanding the social and emotional life and connections of a woman in order to understand her body in birth. The relationship is ever a deeply embroiled one; they do not deal with women on either a purely intellectual or purely emotional plane. Yet they do not reduce women to bodies only, as they see obstetrics doing. ... What is at the core of birth, of life, is what it really means to be alive, to be human and animal: midwives do not see these as contradictory, but as central to who we are. A casual conversation with midwives can incorporate a discussion of piss, vomit, and shit: the body is present. Midwives are dealing with the non-plastic, non-consumerist, non-capitalist essence of what it really means to be alive, from the mundane to the exalted. What midwives love is quite different from 'choice' in meaning: choice is about individualism, consumerism, capitalism. 'Love' is about whatever is left when consumerism and the lot is taken away. 'Love' is about what really matters, about 'real' experience, not a manipulated, purchased, smoothed-over, wallpapered version of it. It is this 'real' life experience that midwives love, the 'real' in the woman, and in the 'animal' act of birth."

-- From Laboring On: Birth in Transition in the United States, by Simonds, Katz Rothman and Meltzer Norman.

my school

This is where I'll be spending most of my time for the next few years, learning the art and the science of being a midwife. This is a rare shot of the school, it seems -- all the others I've found depict the building in winter, blanketed in white. I can almost hear the crunch of our footsteps in the snow now, scurrying up the path to get to class on time.

Can't wait to meet my classmates. So soon!

traditions and trends

Jill Cohen, a midwife, wrote an article called "Trends vs. Traditions" for Midwifery Today last year, bits and pieces of which have stayed with me and bubble up into conscious recall every now and then. Here is an extract:

*****

The trend is to plan for children. To create and follow through on every detail from conception until graduation. To pick schools, college, degree and profession. The child is not even in utero yet!

The tradition is to be in love, to create children to be loved, adored and nurtured as people. To help them become their own beings and good people. To provide support and aid in their development, instilling great confidence to go forth and be productive individuals in the family and community.

The trend is to do every test available. To find out if the baby has anomalies or other things considered “a problem.” To know the sex of the child. To see inside our sacred wombs and view everything possible.

The tradition is to accept and love what we have made. To honor the unknowing with excitement and anticipation. To wonder but not disturb the natural course of creation. To let nature take its course.

The trend is to take classes that teach how to parent, breastfeed and care for a child. To gain knowledge through books, computers and TV.

The tradition is to learn parenting from the family. To start with child play, continue with babysitting and just being in and around family dynamics. To watch your mother breastfeed and be familiar with what it entails. To know how to parent by being parented.

The trend is to avoid the pain of labor. To labor until you can have an epidural to take away the progressively more intense sensations. To perhaps not labor at all but to schedule a c-section and “take the baby out.” To use all available technology so that you feel you have “done it right.” To replace your instinct with technology. To listen to other voices while ignoring your own.

The tradition is to experience labor. To become empowered by your great efforts and to acknowledge the challenge. To trust your instincts, your physical ability and nature to guide you through the birthing process. To make the birthing experience a vital step into parenting with dignity and assurance.

The trend is to “keep up with the Joneses.” To have the best clothes and baby paraphernalia and the smartest, cutest, most talented child. To have every hour filled with to-dos and athletic endeavors along with dance, music and scholastic events. To achieve, gain and produce constantly.

The tradition is to allow for imagination, free play and natural socialization. To teach children to respect and appreciate their things. To allow achievement and not force it. To be trendy but individualistic, creating independence of thought. To have structured time along with free time.

*****

The rest of Jill's piece can be found at:

www.midwiferytoday.com/articles/TrendsvsTraditions.asp

surrender

So, 5 weeks to go and I'm wondering whether I should be fussing more than I am. I'm calm as Buddha, not fretting all that much about small practicalities (yet?) because the most important bits have already fallen into place.

Moments from the last two months, step-wise:

1) Quit nursing school in Jo'burg (stay tuned for the fuller version, some time in the future)
2) Get accepted at Birthwise, a.k.a. Most Bodacious Midwifery School On Earth
3) Tell boyfriend, parents, friends, and other loved ones about my new hair-brained scheme
4) Ask lovely Papa for mun-neeeee
5) Put beloved car up for sale, cry inside, then realise it's just a car
6) Beg N to absolve me of guilt now that I won't be in Jo'burg in October and will therefore no longer be her doula at E's birth
7) Be told by both N and P, separately: "C, I will slap you so damn hard if you don't go to Maine and become a midwife already"
8) Surrender to my happy-but-daunting fate and get school to send me paperwork for US Immigration
9) Wait four long, anxious hours in the rain outside the Consulate General of the United States
10) Step up to booth for interview and answer questions like: "So, you are going to study midwifery?" and "What does your father do?" (Such an anti-climax! What happened to the interrogation?)
11) Obtain student visa with decisive slam of official stamp on my yellow form (or was it the pink one?)
12) Book trans-Atlantic flight and cringe inwardly as my carbon footprint swells
13) Spend three hours on Amazon drooling over the required booklist for school, including Davis, Frye and Varney
14) Place order for my first-ever Student Midwife's Instrument Kit, including a lavender-coloured sphygmo cuff of my own choosing and ... a foetoscope!
15) Stand in front of cupboard and calculate how all my shoes will fit into apparenly teeny-tiny suitcase
16) Decide that midwives don't need lots of shoes anyway
17) Realise that I am my own person, and don't have to fit the student-midwife stereotype (read: I am not compelled to alternate only between Birkenstocks and Crocs)
18) Contemplate whether midwifery is indeed right for me, given my penchant for pretty footwear (which is not moulded out of coloured plastic)
19) Make tea and tell myself to shut it
20) Read passages from Birth Without Violence again and kick self for ever doubting the rightness of midwifery

5 weeks, 1 day

I'll be stepping on a plane in 5 weeks, 1 day, for the longest flight I've ever taken. I'm going via Atlanta, GA, to Portland, ME (not Portland in Oregon), and from there I'll probably rent a car to drive myself to Bridgton. The total flying time is something like 23 hours, travelling back across 7 time-zones.

Delta's steel airborne bullet will be my home for almost one full day, and my inescapable self will either chatter away to the other passengers and surf eagerly for some good in-flight movies to pass the time, or retreat inward to contemplate where I am, and where I'm going to.

Soon I'll step into the tunnel, try not to hold my breath and flee, but instead immerse myself in the anxiety, the anticipation, the elation, the confirmation that I am stronger than I ever thought I was -- but that it's good to ask for help and support sometimes.

Once a labouring woman surrenders to the birth process, it becomes an irresistible force that buoys her up and carries her along to a place she's never been before. She is transformed, unrecognisable to herself and to others, yet she's exactly who and where she was always meant to be.

Becoming a midwife, like becoming a mother, is a rite of passage.
I am ready.

careers for non-conformists

So, I read somewhere that direct-entry midwifery was listed in a book called, I think, Careers for Non-Conformists. Trouble is, I already suspected long ago that the life's work I've chosen is not for sissies. And not for those who shy away from politics.

Welcome to my humble chronicle. Over the next three years, my long-held wish to become a midwife will come to fruition.

My mother used to sing a song to me when I was a kid, called "Little Boxes". More precisely, she used to sing the first verse to me. For that reason I don't think she realised that it's more of an activist anthem than a lullaby... I think she sang it to me because it has a strangely compelling, soothing melody. But kudos to her for lulling me to sleep with such subversive stuff.

Little Boxes
by Malvina Reynolds

Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same
There's a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

And the people in the houses all went to the university
Where they were put in boxes and they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and there's lawyers, and business executives
And they're all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.

And they all play on the golf course and drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children and the children go to school
And the children go to summer camp and then to the university
Where they are put in boxes and they come out all the same.

And the boys go into business and marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.